


but my mind holds the key

by mardia



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Pre-Canon, Unhappy Childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm going to show you something, Amanda," Dr. Banks says. "Something that, hopefully, will make you finally see the truth about your father." (Spoilers for 1x04.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	but my mind holds the key

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missymeggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missymeggins/gifts).



Amanda is very careful with her pictures. She chooses each marker, each crayon carefully, makes every line as bright and as bold as she can.

And she puts her daddy right in the center of every picture, right where Dr. Banks is sure to see him.

Amanda's not dumb. She knows what'll happen when Dr. Banks sees these pictures, she knows she'll be punished. But it doesn't matter, Amanda doesn't _care_. Even though she knows she can't win—that's not going to keep her from fighting.

Her dad isn't who Dr. Banks says he is. Amanda's not going to let anyone try and make her believe something that isn't true.

*

Today is different. Today, Dr. Banks barely even looks at Amanda's pictures, Instead, she sets a videotape and a big heavy folder on the table in front of Amanda and sits next to her. Amanda looks at them, once, before silently turning her gaze back up. She's learned by now that it's better to let Dr. Banks talk.

Nothing good happens when Amanda speaks, these days.

"We're going to try something different today, Amanda," Dr. Banks says firmly. "What we've been doing up till now...clearly hasn't been working."

Amanda's stomach _wriggles_ inside of her, that's the best way to describe it. She hates this place, she wants to go home, but she's also afraid of whatever is about to come next.

She won't show it though. Amanda lifts her chin and says, "What are you going to do to me now?"

"I'm going to show you something, Amanda," Dr. Banks says. "Something that, hopefully, will make you finally see the truth about your father."

Amanda goes cold. "My dad didn't do it."

"Yes, you like to say that, Amanda, I know," Dr. Banks says, getting up and putting the tape in the VCR before hitting play. "But when we're done today, maybe you'll start saying something different."

Amanda scowls as Dr. Banks presses play and sits back down. Once Dr. Banks is settled, Amanda pointedly moves her chair away, letting the legs scrape across the floor with an awful screech.

At first, the video is from the news, showing the plane crash, the one that everyone says her dad helped create. It's sad, but it’s nothing Amanda hasn't seen before, nothing that's going to convince her that her dad actually did what everyone says he did—but then the video cuts away to a lady speaking in front of the camera.

The lady looks nice, but sad. "My daughter was on that flight. She was coming to visit me for a vacation. She—she wanted to drive, take a road trip, but I insisted she fly—I thought it would be quicker, you see..." By this point, the lady is crying, big fat tears rolling down her soft brown cheeks.

"Her daughter died on the plane, Amanda," Dr. Banks cuts in. "That's why she's crying, that's why she's so sad—"

"I _know_ that," Amanda snaps. Before, she never ever would have been so rude to an adult, but a lot of things have changed. "I know she's sad, and I'm sorry that she’s sad, but my daddy isn't the reason she's sad. He didn't do it."

Dr. Banks sighs, loudly. "I thought that might not be enough to convince you," she says, picking up the remote and stopping the tape.

"I need you to look at something for me, Amanda."

Dr. Banks is opening up the folder, and suddenly, Amanda doesn't want to know what's inside. She doesn't want to see, she doesn't want to know.

Amanda braces her feet against the floor and pushes herself back, chair and all, away from the table. "No. I don't want to look."

Dr. Banks shoots an irritated look at her. "Well, that's really not an option, Amanda. Come here."

Amanda doesn't move, and Dr. Banks' voice sharpens. "I _said_ , come here."

Amanda shakes her head, hard enough that her hair slaps her cheeks. "No."

Dr Banks reaches out and grabs her wrist, and Amanda's so shocked she can't even cry out. Before everything went wrong, Amanda hadn't even been so much as spanked. Now, for maybe the first time in her life, she's afraid—

Dr. Banks squeezes her wrist, and repeats, her voice hard and mean, "Amanda. Come over here right now."

Her stomach in knots, Amanda hooks her ankle around the chair leg and pulls her chair forward.

Dr. Banks finally lets go of her, and while Amanda rubs at her wrist, Dr. Banks starts to open up the folder, pulling out photograph after photograph.

Amanda's hand stills on her wrist as she looks at the photographs.

She's seen the news footage of the crash before—she's seen it all the time. But this isn't the wrecked plane, this is, this is—

"No," Amanda hears herself say, in a small voice. "I don't want to look at this."

But she doesn't look away, and Dr. Banks says, "Amanda, you have to see this. I need you to look at this and see what your father really did."

"No," Amanda chokes out, but she's still looking, she's still seeing those twisted forms, blackened, dried out...

The worst are the ones where she can still make out their faces.

"Your father did this. He did it, Amanda, and you have to realize that now. Pretending otherwise doesn't change anything. It won't bring these people back, and it won't turn your father into an innocent man. Do you understand me? Amanda, do you understand?"

Amanda can't say “no” any longer, but that's because she's crying too hard to speak. She's crying so hard that the pictures become blurry smears, until Dr. Banks finally puts the photographs away.

*

Amanda wakes up that night screaming.

Eventually Dr. Banks comes, turning the light, calling out, "Amanda, sweetheart, what's wrong—"

Amanda doesn't even think, just swings out with her arm, her fist catching Dr. Banks in her face.

Dr. Banks backs away, holding her hand to her cheek, but Amanda doesn't care. She just stares dully at her before getting back into bed, turning her face to the wall.

But the next day, when Dr. Banks asks her to draw a picture—Amanda leaves the page blank.

Epilogue:

“So, Dr. Banks. Have you had any success with your patient?”

Michelle Banks licks at her dry mouth. “Yes, Mrs. Grayson, I have. I feel—that I have successfully addressed Amanda’s delusions regarding her father’s innocence.” She doesn’t think about what she had to do to accomplish that. She won’t let herself.

It’s for a greater cause. Amanda’s better off realizing the truth anyway, no matter how she comes to it—and now, perhaps Michelle really can—

“That’s excellent to hear,” Victoria Grayson says on the other end, her approval practically oozing through the receiver. “Yes, I think you’ve done marvelously well. I’ll be better able to show my appreciation at a later date, but for now—thank you, Dr. Banks.”

Michelle exhales, straightening her shoulders, even though there’s no one else to see. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Grayson.”

“Oh, please—call me Victoria.”

“Victoria,” Michelle agrees, after a small pause. And after she hangs up the phone, finally, Michelle can settle in her office and think about all the good she’s about to accomplish—with the help of the Graysons, of course.

By the time she finally locks up her office and heads home, she’s barely thinking anymore about a little girl screaming herself awake from nightmares that Michelle helped put in her mind.

Or at least, that’s what Michelle tells herself, often enough that it nearly becomes true.

End.


End file.
